Life's Funny
by TakeFlight09
Summary: Isadora, and Ambrose are two seemingly normal teenagers. They're smart, beautiful, and all around good people. But when a powerful vampire makes a mistake, they find themselves fighting to accpet what destiny has thrown at them inspired by twilight


A/N: hey my friend and I had this idea for a story. It has nothing to do with twilight..except vampires n it was kinda inspired by twilight. This is our first story so reviews are appreciated...sorry..on with the story enjoy!:)

First Sight- Prologue

I shifted uncomfortably in my corset. "I have no need for these useless things..." I complained to myself as I looked at my barely visible stomach. The corset made me look almost too skinny, and not to mention completely unproportioned. I must have looked ridiculous with my noticeably full bust line, lady like waist, and curvy hips. My maid came in to fix my hair. I would have been just fine leaving my long golden ringlets as they were, but my mother, who forced me into this ridiculous torture device known as a corset in the first place, insisted I look my absolute best when meeting all the "eligible gentlemen". I giggled at that atrocious comment. Who was she kidding? Were the "gentlemen" rich? Yes. Handsome? With out a doubt. But gentlemen? Don't hold your breath. Yet I must be the perfect little lady, so I proclaimed defeat and let myself be prodded, poked, and pulled into my mothers own personal form of perfection.

"Mother" I called as I saw her walk past my room. "Must I wear this awful thing? None of the other ladies will be wearing one, and this isn't England."

"Yes Isadora" she answered curtly as she paused to make my life more of a living hell. "You must wear one. All of England's most honorable women wear them."

"Ah yes, like their whores?" I spat back. I saw my mother flinch at the mention of that word, as if it had stung her.

"That is enough Isadora." She replied after regaining her composure. After years of acting an ice queen, she has finally perfected the art. Bravo mother, bravo. I suppose all wealthy families such as ours have always been so cold to their children. Very depressing, yes, but that's how it has always been.

As we were going down the beautiful streets of Italy, I looked out to see all of the loving couples at the cafes. They looked so immensely happy. And they also looked about my age. See that's another downfall of being wealthy; never being able to lead a normal life. Those lucky people were not born into this curse that I was. We passed a couple in a secluded alley that looked very... intimate. I glanced at the women and was awestruck by her beauty. She looked almost unearthly. She had amazingly dark hair, which wasn't entirely uncommon here in Italy, but something about her left me stunned.

I suppose I had been staring a little too long because almost as if she had sensed me, she turned and looked directly at me. As I saw her face I could almost swear her eyes were blood red. She smiled at me as she realized I was watching her. I blushed a rosy red under my olive skin, which is an almost impossible action for me. I then quickly turned my head away and attempted to regain my composure which my mother can do so easily, yet I couldn't get that woman out of my thoughts.

Finally we arrived at the ball. It was for the one of my parent's friend's son, Ambrose. He invited all the eligible women in England to pick one to court. I didn't particularly want to attend, but I decided to make my parents happy and I succumbed to their wishes.

Ambrose was, to say the least, incredibly handsome, intelligent, rich, and over all a perfect gentleman. Just every parent's idea of a perfect son in law. The problem was that he knew it, and he made damn sure you knew it as well. The ball was actually quite dull and boring. I hadn't said a word to Ambrose all night, and I can't exactly say that this fact brought tears to my eyes. It did, however, serve to make me feel quite self-conscious. Every other available male within visible distance made it his own personal mission to dance with me at least twice, which proved quite tiring. A few were nice enough, and some of them were even handsome, but for some reason they didn't interest meat all. I'm sure that my _wonderful caring_ mother will scheme to have me married to one of them within the next year. But I couldn't dwell on that depressing fact for long. I knew that my mother cared for me. How I know this, I can't say, but she does deep down, she does.

As I was thinking about my dreary life I felt a presence beside me. I turned ready to put on my well practiced fake smile, and pretend I would be _thrilled_ to dance with some "gentleman" who couldn't tear his eyes from my body to look properly into my own eyes. Pity really, I love my eyes. They're a perfect mix of blue and green, almost an aquamarine color. Although, they wouldn't be half as beautiful as they were without my thick long lashes framing them.

"Good evening Isadora" said a beautiful velvet voice from behind me. I turned to face the "gentleman" that was talking to me. But I didn't expect to find myself face to face… well not face to face seeing as to how I only came up to about his chest, with Ambrose himself. Ambrose, in all his glory stood over me smiling. "Would you be so kind as to allow me this dance?" he asked through his smile. I was completely awestruck. I could only stare awkwardly up at him. He was even more gorgeous than remembered. He was at least a head taller than me, which is saying something because I'm a lot taller than most women I know. He had gorgeous dark hair that was shaggy and a bit messy. His eyes were a light brown almost honey. He, in all, looked like a god. He was muscular, but not too muscular. He looked more like a figment of my imagination than a real man asking me to dance.

When I finally found my voice all I could do was muster a weak "yes" and followed him onto the dance floor in awe. He was a magnificent dancer, yes, but if there was one thing I loved more than taking walks in our garden, it was dancing. When I first learned how to dance it was all I wanted to do. I loved it more than life it self, and I was quite talented at it. I knew so many dances that it was unbelievable. I was comforted in the fact that at least I would be able to dance better than him. When the music started he began a very simple dance that I had learned a long time ago. I decided to show him, even if he _was_ amazingly gorgeous, that he had no effect on me, a complete and total lie, and that I was the better dancer. I began to move into a very complicated dance sequence that took me weeks to master. I saw him smirk slightly, raise his eyebrows, and began match my speed, to my annoyance. There was no possible way someone as _perfect_ as Ambrose was able to dance so well too. Soon enough, we both were doing an incredibly complex dance and he was grinning down at me and enjoying every second of it. After some time he decided to slow down. I didn't exactly complain seeing as to how I was very tired, had aching feet, and was breathing quite heavily. We stood there, still in each others arms and as I looked up, our eyes locked unto each others. All I could do was smile up at him and think to myself, "No one had ever made me feel this way before."

"Isadora? Isadora?"

"What? What?" I asked confused, I had just had a strange daydream... though it felt almost more like a memory. I tore my eyes away from Ambrose's perfect golden eyes." Sorry, daydreaming I suppose, what did you say Ambrose?"

"I said the limo is picking us up around 7." Ambrose answered "I thought we could get some dinner before graduation. You know? Catch up."

"Yeah sure, whatever." I said as I started walking away. "Bye" I called after me. I think I heard him say bye back. Frankly I don't care. I don't care that if all of a sudden, after so many years; Ambrose and I are thrown together because we are tied for valedictorians. I live next to the guy for heavens sake. I have for the past, oh I don't know, 18 years! We used to be the best of friends, until high school. He just sort of stopped talking to me and started ditching me for his friends, the usual. I'm not bitter. To say the least, I'm not thrilled to have to be friendly with him. Welcome to my life.

A/N:eh eh?? like it?? well even if you don't review..cuz we're not sure if were ganna continue it..hugs n stuff

3 the Italian and the Asian


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